


When Dreams Become Real

by Lillielle



Category: American McGee's Alice, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Child Abandonment, Child Abuse, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Crossover, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-28
Updated: 2012-11-30
Packaged: 2017-11-19 17:58:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/576080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lillielle/pseuds/Lillielle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A/U Crossover of Alice: Madness Returns and Harry Potter. Disclaimer: None of this belongs to me.</p>
<p>Alice doesn't know what to think when the small, green-eyed boy is dropped off at Houndsditch Home for Wayward Youth...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It Begins

Nobody noticed the small, grubby boy sitting outside Houndsditch Home for Wayward Youth for hours. He sat there calmly, patiently, his ankles loosely crossed, and his hands resting on his knees. It was bitterly cold, but he wore only a thin, patched jacket. A grimy envelope was pinned to the collar and flapped in the wind. He had untidy black hair and emerald-green eyes that swam behind round lenses. The left lens was cracked almost straight through, but the boy didn't seem aware of that, either.

It wasn't until Alice Liddell was back from her afternoon walk (to "brighten her constitution" as the damnable Doctor told her) that she noticed he was still there. Her steps slowed as she walked past him. He had turned to look at her for a moment, then abruptly turned back, as if he was afraid of her reaction.

"Hello?" she said tentatively, stepping back and crouching beside him. He looked young. Alice wasn't really a proper judge of age, but the boy looked eight at the most. The scrawniness of his frame further confused the issue--he looked like he'd not been fed in weeks.

The boy smiled at her, revealing slightly yellowed teeth, and then plucked the envelope off his collar and handed it to her. In neat, cramped script across the front, it read "To the Proprietors Of Houndsditch Home."

Shrugging, Alice broke the seal and extracted the letter inside. She wasn't Dr. Bumby or Matron, but really, did it matter? Dr. Bumby would only scold her before leading her off for another session, and Matron had more on her hands than punishing a 19-year-old former asylum inmate. She helped with the orphans and did her chores and Matron let her alone, for the most part.

In the same narrow script, the letter inside read:

_Dear Sir or Madam,_

_I apologize for the abrupt way we are dropping another orphan off on your doorstep, but I fear we have no choice. His name is Harry Potter. He is nine years old, and he has become an absolute menace to our household. He cannot speak, but he falls into "fits" that are terrifying to witness. We have a son of our own about his age, and it has become too much. We hope that you will be able to care for him, while we have not._

_Sincerely yours._

There was no signature. Alice snorted in disgust. Of course there wasn't. Then the police could be called on them for abandoning a child they'd been sworn to upkeep.

"So your name's Harry, huh?" she asked the small boy. He nodded and smiled widely, again showing off the fact he dearly needed a good scrubbing. Alice folded the letter and placed it back in the envelope before she reached out her other hand for Harry's. The boy looked at her in shock before he carefully placed his hand in hers, gently squeezing her fingers.

"Onward and forward, or so they say," she murmured, more to herself than anything, before leading the Potter boy into the orphanage. She'd give the letter to Matron and wait for him to be properly assessed. There weren't many other boys around his age at the orphanage anymore. Besides, she'd taken a liking to him as he sat there, waiting so patiently for someone to notice him.

He reminded her of herself.


	2. Broken Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some quotes taken verbatim from Alice: Madness Returns.

"I want to forget," Alice spat at Dr. Bumby as she sat up and rubbed her eyes, trying to rid herself of the pounding headache and the queasy sloshing of her stomach. "Who would choose to be alone, imprisoned by their broken memories?"

Dr. Bumby looked as calm and rational as always, making Alice's hatred of him burn stronger. How could he look so put-together after he'd just put her through hell? This was worse than Rutledge!--Well, Alice acknowledged ruefully, nothing was worse than Rutledge, not really.

"I'll set you free, Alice," he assured her. "Memory is a curse more often than a blessing."

"So you've said many times," Alice interrupted him, anger making her voice shrill.

"And I'll say again," he insisted, still calm. "The past must be paid for."

He went on to tell her to collect her usual medication from the chemist, but Alice barely listened. She was far too impatient to get out of the clutching confines of his office. It made her feel sick every time she went into it, and she pitied the next child, Charlie, who grinned at her as she left and piped up, "It's my turn to forget, Alice!"

As she turned to leave the orphanage and find the chemist (and why did her memory turn into a rusty sieve when it came to finding places about the city? it was humiliating to have to ask for directions every week), her eyes fell upon the small, slightly hunched figure of Harry perched nervously on the corner of the settee.

"Harry!" she cried, feeling a genuine smile tug at her lips. Something about the boy called to her. He looked up and smiled at her. His face was clean, his teeth well-brushed, his clothes still worn and patched but newer, but there was somethiing about his eyes. They were shadowed now in a way they hadn't been when she'd first plucked him off the steps a week ago.

"Harry?" she asked, concern creeping into her tone, as she came nearer and sat on the settee next to him. His body stiffened for a moment before she saw the conscious effort to relax. "Harry, what's wrong?"

Harry simply shook his head before pulling out the chalkboard Matron had given him to try and communicate his needs with. The other orphans would have stolen it off him, but Alice had personally threatened each and every one of them. Since then, they'd skirted a bit far around Harry, but he'd been making a few friends, the last she'd noticed.

"I saw doktor," his shaky scrawl on the board read. He had the too large, uncertain printing of a child half his age, but then again, both Matron and Alice were certain his former guardians hadn't allowed him any proper schooling. The fact he could read and write at all was a testament to his intelligence.

"Doctor Bumby?" Alice asked quietly, burningly aware of the closed office door only feet away. "Let's go for a walk, Harry," she suggested. Harry nodded with alacrity and hopped off the settee, tucking his board up under one arm and holding out his other hand for Alice to take.

A white cat meowed demandingly at her from the top step leading into the orphanage, but Alice ignored it for the time being, searching for a safer place to talk about the damnable doctor. She found it behind a cluster of bushes in one corner of the yard, and gently led Harry that way.

"Now, what about Doctor Bumby?" she asked once the two had settled. Matron was busy overseeing the end of lunch, and Dr. Bumby was with Charlie--they had a while.

Harry bent over the board, scribbling industriously.

_The doktor want me to forgit. The doktor tel me i'm usless if i cant forgit. He want me to discrib fits & i cant. He git mad at me for that to._

Slow-burning anger ignited in Alice's stomach once more. 

"I'm sorry, Harry," she said, trying to control her emotions even as she motioned for him to wipe the slate clean with the ragged edge of his trousers. "What does he even want you to forget?" Alice asked as the thought struck her. Harry shrugged, but she could tell he wasn't being entirely truthful with her. That was all right. Everyone was entitled to their secrets. Not that Bumby thought so.

"You aren't useless, anyway," she continued. "No matter what he says. Try to keep out of his way, though. He's--not very nice." Bottle-green eyes searched her face intently before Harry finally nodded.

"Now, I need to pick up my pills and you should probably go back in," Alice said, standing up and dusting herself off. Harry shook his head and scribbled something quickly on his board.

_I want to go with you._

"Well--all right," Alice shrugged. "I would say that we should tell Matron, but it's only a five-minute journey, really. No harm done." She smiled down at the mute boy, who nodded, a bright expression clearing away the shadows in his eyes.

The cat was still there by the gate and it meowed impatiently at Alice, who rolled her eyes and tried to coax it closer.

"Here, puss, puss," she murmured, outstretching her hand. The cat meowed louder and suddenly scampered off into the dismal, dark streets.

"Oh well," Alice sighed. Harry tugged on her sleeve, motioning for her to follow the cat.

"You like cats, too, hmm?" Alice asked, and Harry nodded.

"Well, all right," Alice said, starting off in the direction the cat had ran. "Here, puss. Where did you go?"

It wasn't until several blocks later that the hallucinations darkened her sight once more. Monsters in human suits, antennae stretching wetly from their heads. Alice bit back a shriek of disgust. Harry was with her. She couldn't frighten him. She clamped her eyes tightly shut, counting to ten like Matron had told her to do.

When she opened them again, she was in Wonderland.

And Harry was with her.


	3. The Cheshire Cat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some quotes verbatim from Alice: Madness Returns.

Alice looked around in wonder, almost forgetting the silent green-eyed boy still clutching her hand in a death's grip.

It had been so long, she could barely remember it, and yet...and yet, it was like she had never left.

A stream babbled its way along flat stones a few feet away. A domino jutted merrily out, as if to prove to her this could be no ordinary forest she'd landed in. Although how could it, since moments ago, she'd been lost in a grey London alleyway?

"Where are we?" a soft, shy voice spoke at her elbow and she nearly leaped out of her skin when she realized it was Harry.

"Harry!" she gasped. "You're...you're here, too? And you can talk?!"

"I guess," Harry shrugged, perplexingly unfazed. "Is it a dream? I can always talk in my dreams. It's just when I wake up I can't anymore."

"This isn't a dream, precisely, no," Alice said slowly, looking around as she spoke. "This is Wonderland."

"Indeed, Alice," the Cheshire Cat materialized in front of them and she nearly leaped out of her skin a second time.

"Don't try to bully me, Cat," she said preemptively. "I'm very much on edge."

"Perfect," the Cat growled, flashing blood-stained teeth in what passed for his smile. "When you're not on edge, you're taking up too much space."

"Always with the riddles," Alice rolled her eyes.

"Excuse me, who are you?" Harry piped up, staring at the mangy Cat with unabashed interest.

"The Cheshire Cat, at your service," the Cat executed a mock sort of bow. "And you..." The Cat's eyes widened.

"Alice, you bring more trouble to Wonderland than even you can handle, I think," the Cat said, and vanished, leaving behind only an impression of his grin.

"Damn it," Alice stamped her foot. "He's always doing that," she explained to the wide-eyed Harry. "And I have no idea what he means at all, of course. How could you be any kind of trouble? You're a nine-year-old orphan boy."

Harry shrugged.

"I don't know, but I liked him," he replied.

"Of course you did," Alice sighed, looking around once more. The breeze flirted with the ends of her hair.

"You look different," Harry jolted her out of her reverie. She looked down at herself. A familiar blue dress and white apron met her eyes. The apron was blood-stained.

"So do you," Alice pointed out. And it was true. His glasses were missing, for one, yet he seemed able to see just fine. His patched outfit had also transformed into something cut far smarter, although in black and white. It reminded her of a chessboard.  _The Heart of Darkness,_ echoed briefly in her mind, and a cold shudder melted over her skin. That was in the past. It was done. Time to forget, as Dr. Bumby would say.

For now, there was Wonderland, and the whole world to explore. With Harry at her side, this time. It could only prove to be interesting.


	4. A Glimpse of Harry's Past

They followed the stream for a while. Alice didn't seem to mind holding Harry's hand, so he didn't speak up about it. He knew most of the kids at the orphanage would laugh and call him a baby (and certainly  _Dudley_ would have), but there was no one at all to point or laugh here. No one to rip him away from her with clutching fingers that felt like claws. No one to scream and splutter into his face, or backhand him, or take out the belt...

The Dursleys had been lucky his last set of bruises had mostly healed before they dumped him off on the orphanage's doorstep, Harry thought slightly bitterly. He'd been in shock that they'd actually followed through for once. Uncle Vernon must have threatened it a hundred times, starting when Harry was three years old and made his teddy bear fly.

The Dursleys were always angry at Harry, for one thing or another. His muteness was a sorely contested battle. Uncle Vernon insisted that he could talk if he wanted to, and he was just being insolent. Aunt Petunia at least understood that even if he was physically capable of speaking, something prevented him from doing so. Dudley didn't care either way. Harry's muteness just made it easier for the fat, blonde boy to go "Harry hunting" with his brutish friends.

It was all he knew, though, and so even though life at the orphanage was infinitely better (though he didn't trust Dr. Bumby one bit), Harry couldn't help but miss the Dursleys. They were his only link to his parents, for one. They'd died in a train accident, or so Aunt Petunia had told him with that particular pinched-face look that told him not to scribble down any questions. Harry didn't know. Aunt Petunia said he'd been found in the wreckage by a police officer. All Harry could remember was a flash of green light. He didn't know what the green light could have come from. Explosions and things of that nature weren't normally green, were they?

Alice was an orphan, too, he'd heard around the orphanage. Her entire family had died in a house fire. She was the only survivor. Harry knew how that felt, although he'd been too young to know what was happening when the train had gone off the rails. Alice had been only a little younger than he was now when her family perished.

Alice seemed lost in thought as they walked. He wondered what she was thinking of. Was she thinking of her family? Of London? Matron and Dr. Bumby would surely miss them if they were gone much longer--unless this truly was a dream. Or he was having one of his fits. But he'd never remembered his fits before, had he? They couldn't be this grand in scope. And there'd never been another person near him, either. The Dursleys would always flee if he started having one of his fits. Or throw him into the cellar, "where he couldn't harm anything," Aunt Petunia would always say with a sniff.

But didn't Alice have fits, too? He'd heard Matron and Dr. Bumby talking about her the other day. How she'd spent a decade in Rutledge. Harry knew what that was, he'd passed it all the time when he lived with the Dursleys. It was an insane asylum. Alice had been insane. He supposed the thought should frighten him, but it didn't. After all, he was insane, too, wasn't he? With his fits and his silence, his funny way of thinking. The Dursleys had always hated that. He couldn't stifle his imagination, no matter how much they tried to beat it out of him.

Harry had never imagined a place like this, though. Wonderland. He'd read  _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_ of course, stumbling over many unfamiliar words, but he was sure he'd gotten the gist. That Alice wouldn't understand this Wonderland, though. There was a dark edge to this Wonderland. A sort of grim warning to be on your guard, no matter what it took. Harry couldn't say why he got that impression, but it was there, nonetheless.

"Alice, where are we going?" he finally dared ask after a while. They had been walking pretty far, and his legs were beginning to stumble a bit. She turned and looked down at him. For a moment, it was as if she didn't even recognize him. But then a smile broke across her face and she let go of his hand briefly to tousle his hair. He normally hated it when people did that, but somehow he couldn't mind it when it was from Alice.

"I don't know, really," she said. Her cheeks were flushed with the wind and exertion, and her hair whipped freely about her face. She looked peaceful in this place. Something far different from her usual strained, sallow complexion. "Anywhere. It's better than Bumby's, isn't it?" Harry nodded automatically. Yes. This vibrant land was far better than the dreary confines of the orphanage.

But then up ahead, where several streams met and formed a shimmering sort of pool, Harry noticed the Cat once more. He was waiting for them.


	5. Snicker-Snack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some quotes verbatim from Alice: Madness Returns.
> 
> Some quotes also from the poem "Jabberwocky" by Lewis Carroll.

As they drew near, Alice could see the Cat's tail lashing back and forth. So he was agitated. Good, she thought spitefully, then hated herself. What had become of her since she had defeated the Heart of Darkness and taken back control of her own sanity? She was a wreck, a pitiable wreck, and the Cat had every right to laugh at her. Laugh at what she had become. Beside her, Harry had grown unnaturally still.

"What do you want, Cat?" she asked, trying to remain civilized this time. His appearance in the meadow had taken her entirely by surprise and unleashed the sharp edge of her tongue.

"For you to see what you have unleashed, but that, I suppose, will come in time," the Cat inclined his head, once more staring at Harry. "A new law reigns in this Wonderland, Alice. It's very rough justice all round. You, be on your guard."

"That does not surprise me," Alice replied. Despite her best intentions, a new edge had crept into her voice, one the Cat surely recognized.

"You know what you must seek, Alice, I suggest you find it quickly...before something finds  _you_ ," the Cat told her, and vanished once more. His mocking grin made her want to smack him.

"What does he mean, Alice?" Harry questioned, but Alice didn't reply, not right away. Her mind was far away, lost when she'd first retrieved the Vorpal Blade. It had been her constant companion in the days when she quested to fight her madness, its shining edge ever coated in blood.

"Something I lost once," Alice finally replied before taking up his hand and marching forward in determination. If she recalled correctly (which was anybody's guess), she knew exactly where the knife would be. Stuck in the bones of the Jabberwock.

The sounds of the forest stilled around them as they continued. Alice guessed not many creatures ventured to this glade anymore. Even dead, the Jabberwock still inspired fear, she thought ruefully. Not that she could blame anything. The damn thing had nearly made her wet herself when she'd fought it before. But it had been necessary if she'd wanted to defeat the Queen, and the monstrosity behind it.

Harry was mumbling something to himself as they walked, and to Alice's intermingled shock and amusement, she heard this:  _Beware the Jabberwock, my son, the jaws that bite, the claws that catch!_

So he has read of Wonderland, Alice thought. Her boots scuffed through the grass and leaves. The crackling made her uneasy. She would prefer to make her way soundless to the Jabberwock's carcass, but it seemed impossible. Particularly with Harry stumbling along at her side.

"Do you know the whole poem, Harry?" Alice asked, trying to make conversation. Harry jumped, his hand automatically going to his nose to push up the glasses that were no longer there.

"Not anymore," he whispered. "I used to, but...I don't know why I can't remember," he ended on a fretful note, rubbing at his forehead. With his hair out of the way, Alice realized, startled, he had something on his forehead.

"Harry, what's on your forehead?" she asked. He pushed his sweaty fringe away, revealing it.

"I got it in the train accident," he said quietly as she perused the lightning bolt-shaped scar that zig-zagged its jagged way down his skin. She wanted to say it looked like no scar you could get from a train accident, but kept her mouth shut. It wasn't like she actually knew what it was from, after all.

"It looks nasty," she finally said. Harry shrugged.

"It's not like it hurts anymore," he said. "I got it when I was a baby."

Alice inclined her head in acknowledgement as they pushed their way through the brambles into the final clearing. The Jabberwock's skeleton stretched out in front of her, grimly forbidding. The vorpal blade's handle stuck out of its ribcage, still gleaming with its own secret magic. Despite herself, her heart quickened and her hand itched to have her old friend's comforting weight once more.

It came out easily, the bones around it crumbling into dust and disrepair. The Jabberwock held no more fright for her, she acknowledged as she hefted the vorpal blade, running her finger along the edge to test its sharpness. Blood welled up in a thin line, making her wince and stick her finger into her mouth. Still sharp.

"The Vorpal Blade is swift and keen and always ready for service," a rather familiar voice spoke at her elbow. The Cat grinned lazily at her, his tail flicking around his emaciated footpaws. Harry regarded the Cat with frank, curious eyes.

"I've not come back here, looking for a fight," Alice replied, dropping the blade into her apron pocket in a familiar, practiced motion. 

"Really?" the Cat yawned. "That's a pity. One's certainly looking for you."

"In that case, it will have a difficult time finding me," Alice retorted. "Particularly since I'm not alone this time. I have no wish to see Harry hurt for my own misdeeds."

The Cat's yellow eyes flicked over to Harry, perusing him intently. Harry seemed to squirm under that stare until finally, the Cat nodded.

"You have a point, Alice, but there is nothing to be done. For you both are in Wonderland, and it is here you will remain," Cheshire said. "The Vorpal Blade is yours, but for Master Potter here...I believe another weapon will do."

What looked like a long stick materialized out of thin air, dropping into Harry's startled hands.

"Wh--what's this?" Harry stammered.

"You'll find out," the Cat replied. "Remember--swish and flick!" And with that, he was gone once more.

"Oh, that blasted Cat!" Alice sighed in frustration. "What did he give you, Harry?"

Harry turned the stick over and over in his hands, examining it. It was smooth and polished, and gave off a faint warmth when he held it.

"It looks like a...a magic wand or something," he admitted. "But--magic's not real, is it?"

"In Wonderland, anything can become real," Alice said. "Best keep that in your pocket so you don't lose it." Harry nodded and stuffed it into his trouser pocket. The end jutted out, gleaming in the dim light of the glade.

"Where to now?" Harry asked, but Alice was already moving. He had to rush to keep up with her, his legs stretching and working. He felt very tired already, but could tell there was no way Alice was going to stop now. She looked invigorated now that she'd gotten the knife. What had the Cat called it? The Vorpal Blade? He recognized that from the Jabberwocky poem, too. 

_One-two, one-two! and through and through, the Vorpal Blade went snicker-snack!_

 

 


	6. Insidious Ruin And A Side Trip to Madness

Alice only realized she'd been walking too quickly when she heard Harry's pants for breaths. The boy hadn't complained once, but when she looked, she could see the wobble of fatigue in his step and the heaving of his too-thin chest. Matron had told her that he wasn't to be allowed out for strenuous exercise yet, and a pang of guilt stabbed her heart.

"Let's take a rest, Harry," she suggested and guided him to sit on a low, mossy rock. He nodded gratefully and heaved in gulps of air. Another throb of guilt, and Alice folded herself neatly beside him, sitting on the ground. She didn't care about the grime that would inevitably cling to her. It was  _Wonderland_ grime, and that  made it different. No more London smog, no more narrow, cramped streets rife with pickpockets and whores.

Of course, they couldn't stay in Wonderland forever. But for now--

A rustling, slithering sound behind them caught her attention. Alice was up in an instant, vorpal blade in her hand. Harry looked up, frightened, and she put her finger up to her lips in a universal silence gesture. 

Creeping forward, Alice pushed aside a branch and had to stifle a gurgle of shock.

First of all, they were almost out of the forest. A crooked metal sign said "Mad Hatter's Domain" in blocky letters, and a crumbly road led off into the distance. That wasn't what snagged Alice's attention the most, however.

No, that would have to be the... _thing_ on the other side of the road.

It looked like a walking oil slick or something, she noted in queasy fascination. A plastic doll's face shone incongruously out of the thing's "head." Slippery tentacle-like protrusions waved around its body. "Hands," maybe? Alice wondered. Black metal pipes poked out of its back, pumping thick smog into the air.  Looking at it made her feel sick.

"What is it?" Harry whispered. She looked around wildly and saw the boy had slipped up next to her. He was holding the wand the Cat had given him in one fist.

"Harry, go back," Alice hissed. She'd never seen anything like the thing on the other side of the road in Wonderland before. Was this what the Cat had been talking about, looking for a fight? Or was it something else?

"No," Harry insisted, his voice rising. Alice saw the ruinous creature's doll face turn towards them. Shit. It had heard them. Her shoulders slumped in resignation. It wasn't that she was squeamish or unused to killing. She'd had to kill plenty of things the first time she'd saved Wonderland. If she never saw another Boojum in her life, it would be too soon, for instance.

No, it wasn't uncertainty of killing yet another threat to Wonderland. It was Harry with her, peeking over her shoulder in revolted fascination at the creature. He was a child. A child armed only with a wooden stick. If anything happened to him, the guilt would destroy her and eat Wonderland alive.

"Harry, please go back," Alice said again, but Harry shook his head. There was a determined set to his chin that Alice recognized. He really was like her younger self, she sighed.

"Fine, but you stay behind me," she warned. He finally nodded and eased back a few feet, his shoes crunching on the litter of dead leaves that carpeted the ground.

The...Ruin, as Alice had taken to calling it in her head, moved towards them. At the moment, it was slow. Garbled sounds came from its "head" and she realized uneasily that they sounded like the terrified moans of children. What  _was_ this thing?

The time for skulking behind the trees was past, Alice decided and stepped boldly into the open, throwing her other hand out in a warning to keep Harry in the scant protection of the woods.

" _Alice_ ," the Ruin hissed and one of its tentacles extended with startling speed, aiming right for her. So much for friendly, Alice thought and slashed it away with the vorpal blade. It stuck to the knife for a moment before falling with a sickeningly wet plop onto the crumbled brick of the road. _  
_

Then it was right there in front of her, and all she could do was slash at it as fast as she could, old agility coming back as she dodged that way and leaned this way, her hair flying about her face, her eyes glowing with a fierce, private joy. The vorpal blade scored deeply across the doll face and suddenly, the Ruin was sagging to the ground, a gelatinous mass that flowed out into nothing and evaporated. As the melted ruins of the creature vanished, Alice could have sworn she heard a child's whisper say "thank you."

"Alice, that was wicked," Harry grinned, running to her from the shelter of the trees. His bottom lip looked slightly bruised, and Alice wondered what he'd been doing. Had he been worried about her? She was about to ask, but changed her mind upon seeing the new-found enthusiasm in his face. There would be time for that later, she decided.

"Thank you," she said, wiping her knife off on a patch of slightly yellowed grass to one side and tucking it back into her apron pocket.

"Where are we going now?" Harry asked. Bottle-green eyes peered into her own, and for a moment, Alice was lost in reverie.  _Lizzie...Lizzie, where are you?_

"The Mad Hatter's Domain, of course," she said, pointing to the sign. It had grown a jaunty top-hat somehow. Rusty cogs whirred to life as a mechanical arrow extended from the hat to point the way. Harry's eyes rounded at the sight, but Alice didn't even jump. It was Wonderland, after all.

The two started down the cracked roadway. One step further into Madness, Alice thought and had to suppress a laugh. 

She was already mad.


	7. Memories of a Mad Girl and a Broken Lad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of abuse.

The journey into the Mad Hatter's Domain was disappointingly uneventful and as they walked, Alice let her mind wander. Back to the last time she'd ventured into Wonderland. When she'd rescued her own sanity.

It had been more than a year since she'd escaped Rutledge Asylum. They hadn't had a reason to keep her anymore. Her mental health had improved to the point where they were better off letting her leave, and allowing some other poor mad soul to take her place. Dr. Bumby, however, had impressed upon her the importance of keeping in touch with him. And when the hallucinations started, and the fragments of her broken memories jostled at the edges of her mind, she ended up in weekly appointments in his office, trying desperately to...to do what, really? Alice wondered. To remember, to forget...she wanted to forget, and Dr. Bumby told her to forget it all. Forget about Lizzie, forget the fire, forget Dinah. But how could she, when it threatened to drive her mad once more? She'd lived and they'd died. She'd watched the house burn. Priss had told her that. That she'd stood there, barefoot in the snow, clutching her rabbit and watching the house burn. Tears streaming down her face then, but she was dry-eyed later. She couldn't cry. Dry-eyed as her world shattered and burned around her. And thus began the instability of Wonderland.

But it was over, wasn't it? The Heart of Darkness had crumbled. The Red Queen defeated. Queensland lay in ruins (or did it?). Rutledge lay behind her. Nightmares of that place still tumbled through Alice's brain. The orderlies. Tweedledum and Tweedledee, she'd privately dubbed them. Bastards, the both of them. They'd force-fed her when her hallucinations proved too strong, and she couldn't even look at a meal tray anymore. Their thick, stubby fingers had pried her mouth open, not caring if they left bruises or made the corners of her mouth crack open and bleed. Lewd comments were rampant, although she'd still been quite young, about what a pretty mouth she had, what a shame they couldn't fill it with something else. With a shudder of disgust, Alice could still remember the larger twin grabbing his crotch with a meaty hand and gesturing at her with it. She'd closed her eyes so tightly, she'd felt like the capillaries might burst. And wouldn't that have been a treat, seeing everything through a misty red haze of blood? She'd paid them back, though. A spoon through one's cheek. It had been quite exhilarating, hearing his hoarse screams before she turned the instrument upon herself.

Even worse, however, was Nurse Cratchett, that miserable bitch. Alice longed to see her dead. Perhaps the senseless cruelties she'd inflicted upon Alice and the other inmates could come back upon her three-fold?  _Discipline your mind, Alice, discipline your mind,_ the crude woman had always spouted as she set leeches on Alice's bone-thin frame, or sent her up for another electro-shock treatment. Then there were the little "games" she played when Alice was alone once more in her room. Pick the right choice, Alice, pick the treat, or you'll get a trick. Only she always picked the trick. Always petty, always vicious. Prodding her thighs this way and that. The prick of a needle sliding into her veins, the burn that followed. The thick, cruel hands thudding against her intimate parts, "examining" her. Orderlies leering and urging Nurse Cratchett on in low, choked whispers while Alice lay there and tried desperately to fall back into Wonderland. Many times, she almost succeeded until there was yet another rough prickle of pain, something else always that pulled her away from her longed-for refuge.

Of course, she discovered that Wonderland was not the escape she'd dreamed of, but even in that, it was better. At least in Wonderland, Dr. Wilson was not there to drone on and on at her, to take away her pencils, to take away her rabbit. Bastard. She supposed he'd meant well. At least he did not perpetuate monstrosities for the sheer joy of doing so.

Alice wondered where her rabbit was now. She'd...lost him. Somewhere along the way. Although she was sure she'd had him when she'd left Rutledge...hadn't she?

_I'm late, I'm late, I'm terribly late!_  But of course, the White Rabbit was nowhere to be seen anymore. She'd seen him the last therapy session with Dr. Bumby. Having tea with him, but then it all went...horribly wrong. Perhaps that should have been a sign. Wonderland was corrupted. And now she must set it right. But she'd never had a companion before. Particularly not one so young. So...broken. Yes. He was broken in different ways, but Harry Potter was broken, as well. He'd told her a bit about his former family. The way they'd pushed him round, the way they'd abandoned him when he had one of his "fits." And what were his fits, anyway? Were they similar to her bouts of catatonia in Rutledge? Did Harry have his own version of Wonderland?

Was that how he could come along with her, on this journey into madness?

Beside her, Harry was lost in his own thoughts. He'd never been out of London before, not that he could remember. Oh, sure, his parents had lived elsewhere, but he couldn't remember it. The only thing he remembered before the train accident was a very hazy fragment of a smiling redheaded woman leaning over him. He supposed this was his mum, but he'd never seen a photograph of her. The Dursleys had never told him what his parents looked like. Only their names. James and Lily Potter. They were strong names. Good names. Uncle Vernon had called his father a drunken wastrel and his mum little more than a prostitute, but Harry didn't believe him.

And now he was here, in Wonderland. Walking along a broken, crumbly road made of bricks, stones, and bits of old machinery. Off to see the Mad Hatter, or so Alice had told him. He wondered if this Mad Hatter was anything like in the storybook, but doubted it. This Wonderland was different. It could kill you. He'd seen Alice fight that...thing. The Ruin, she called it. He'd never seen anybody fight like that. The orphans sometimes fought in the dusty play yard out back, but it was all flailing fists and kicks, and was usually broken up quickly by Matron. And of course, the one-sided fights with Dudley. But those were different. Alice had looked like a whirlwind. A deadly one, made up of blue gingham and swirling hair and of course, that wickedly sharp vorpal blade she had pulled so reverently from the monster's skeleton.

Him? He got a stick. His nose scrunched as he pulled it once more out of his pocket to examine it. It was approximately eleven inches long and Alice had said it looked like it was holly wood. How on earth that Cat had gotten hold of it, he had no idea. (Although if he had asked, the Cat would have said Ollivander's and left the both of them more baffled than before.) He felt pleasantly warm when he held it, like he'd just gotten a nice slab of chocolate. Once or twice, it looked like the end had lit up with golden sparks, although Harry was sure that was just a trick of the light. Magic wasn't  _real_ , after all.

The Dursleys had been real big on that. Magic wasn't real. Fantasy was not to be brought into the house. Not even Dudley was exempt from that, although admittedly, he had little interest in anything but food and bullying Harry. Harry had had to sneak fantasy tales in the few brief moments he got between chores, scoldings, and beatings, but they'd always been worth it.

Now he'd been dropped headlong into a fantasy book. With Alice, who he liked a lot more than he'd expected to. She was a kindred spirit, he'd sensed it the moment she'd spotted him sitting outside Houndsditch. There was a wildness about her, something that could not be tamed no matter what Dr. Bumby tried to make her forget.

Ahead of them, something scuttled across the road. Immediately, Alice was on alert. Harry's fingers clenched around the wand. They were still in danger, and he would do well not to forget that. No matter how innocuous Wonderland seemed.

Then the air was full of scuttling sounds, and rustling sounds, and the hiss of what seemed a tea-kettle. And suddenly, they were surrounded.


	8. Madcaps Lead The Way To The Lord of Death

Alice cursed fluently and at great length as they were surrounded by knobby-looking gnomes with teacups for helmets, spears brandished in their hands. Damn. It. If she hadn't been so preoccupied with a jaunt down memory lane, perhaps they wouldn't now be prisoners. She'd never seen these creatures before. Madcaps, she dubbed them. They jabbered at her and Harry in what sounded like gibberish. A sickly green light glowed around their helmets every few minutes. Alice hadn't ever seen anything like it before. It looked alien. Even more alien than the Ruin, if that were possible.

"This way," a larger Madcap finally grunted. Alice and Harry followed, bewildered, down a long, twisty pathway made up of shattered teacups and twisted cutlery. A cracked saucer seemed to glare at Alice. It had the Queen painted on it in dusty rose.

"Where are they taking us?" Harry whispered. The fearful note in his voice made Alice's heart twist. But she had no answer. She'd never been--captured? Before. Always the fight, no surrender. But they hadn't attacked her yet...

"Here," the head Madcap said when they arrived at an enormous teapot. Folios of the Queen, the Mad Hatter, and the White Rabbit were painted in sloppy strokes all over its rough, pitted surface. There was a large crack running down the middle, just large enough for Alice and Harry to pass through. The same acid green light that glowed about the Madcaps gleamed briefly in the darkness.

Alice's hand innocently slipped into her apron pocket, holding the handle of her knife protectively. They hadn't taken it off her (or Harry's stick), and while she had no intention of starting a losing battle right here, she was not an innocent babe, going trustingly into darkness and god knew what else.

She stepped into the teapot, and after a moment's hesitation, Harry followed. The Madcaps clustered around the entrance, blocking out most of the light, jabbering incomprehensibly once more. Apparently, only the head Madcap spoke English.

It wasn't as dark in the teapot as the ominous opening indicated. Faint light filtered down through the spout, illuminating what looked like a child's playroom. A smaller tea set lay smashed across one side, with black inky stuff pooling around the smashed saucers and filling the splintered cups. A doll stared blankly at Alice, one eye popped out and lying across its broken cheek.

The other side of the room drew her attention more, though. Here was more of the green light, pooled thickly across the shadows. It was poisonous-looking, the kind of green that a venomous snake's scales might be, and Alice hated it. This was not of Wonderland, she was more and more sure. This was different. It did not belong.

" _Alice_ ," something in that mess of green and shadow whispered. " _And Harry. What a pair the two of you are._ "

"How lovely of you to notice there's two of us," Alice replied dryly, making sure that Harry stayed a bit behind her. She strode toward the green light, her eyes squinting to make out anything beyond it. A shadowy figure separated from the shadows, and she fell back a pace, unable to help herself.

This was not of Wonderland, either, it couldn't be. A man...or was it? He was ghostly pale, as bone white as old china. Scarlet, baleful eyes glared at her above a narrow slit of a nose, and a mouth filled with sharp, glittering teeth. He wore nothing but a black robe, swathed tightly around his emaciated figure. He was entirely bald, rather like the Madcaps still cavorting outside.

"What are you?" she spoke, sharp. A high, cold laugh issued from the figure's mouth.

"You would not understand if I said, my dear," the figure said, waving a spidery, long-fingered hand. The other held a long stick of polished wood, similar to the one the Cat had given Harry. "Harry here might--in a few years."

"How would I know?" Harry spoke up beside her. He sounded utterly bewildered.

"Oh, that's right," the figure laughed. "Your dear, sweet relatives told you that your parents died in a train accident, didn't they."

"How do you know that?" Harry yelled, his fingers curling into fists.

"The Dark Lord knows all, Harry," the shadow-covered man said. More green light coiled around him, rather like a serpent about to strike. Alice had to fight down a shiver. The self-styled Dark Lord could give the Heart of Darkness a run for her money.

"Bugger off," Harry said, rather bravely. The Dark Lord merely smirked, raising that stick.

"Did you not wonder how you could come here?" the Dark Lord whispered, his voice icy calm. "Here, to Alice's Wonderland? Nice place you have here," he nodded, looking around appreciatively. "Too bad it's shattering."

"Get out," Alice demanded. Without realizing it, she'd drawn the vorpal blade and its wickedly sharp edge glittered in the poisonous light.

"You cannot keep me out forever, dear Alice," the Dark Lord smiled. "Not with young Master Potter at your side. And if he dies here, he will die for always, and I will have won."

"You're wrong," Harry managed to say, voice trembling. He looked furious and terrified by turns, his eyes bright and shiny. The stick the Cat had given him gleamed in his hand. "I don't know who you are, but you're wrong. You don't belong in Wonderland.  _Get out_!" He half-yelled the last bit, and as he did, red sparks suddenly leaped out of the end of his wand, arrowing right for the Dark Lord and that sickly green light. Both Lord and light vanished with a loud pop, and they were alone, standing in a dusty, half-ruined teapot. On the side the Dark Lord had stood, blood painted the ceramic sides in wide, ragged splotches.

"What the bloody hell was that," Alice murmured, sinking down on a doll's chair. She couldn't put the vorpal blade away, not yet.

"I don't know," Harry said. He was still staring at the end of his wand, as if he couldn't believe anything had come out of it at all.

Outside, the Madcaps grew louder, sounding almost in a frenzy. Alice peeked out and realized that green light had gone from them, as well. Had they been controlled to bring them here? It certainly seemed it. The only problem was...Her eyes widened.

Now the Madcaps hadn't a reason in the world not to do their best to kill Alice and Harry. And what had the Dark Lord said? If Harry died in this world, he died for real?

They had a problem.


	9. A Daring Rescue

Harry had never been so confused in his life. How on earth had that man known who he was? Known his parents were dead? And to tell him that they hadn't died in a train accident, after all...how could they have died, then? The Dursleys weren't the greatest of relatives, true, even a halfwit could acknowledge that, but to lie about something like that? Unless they hadn't known, perhaps. And there had been that green light he could barely recall. The same green light, come to think of it, that had surrounded the self-named "Dark Lord." A cold shudder traveled down his spine, and he pressed more tightly to the roughly pebbled wall of the teapot. Alice looked over at him briefly from her own perch on the doll furniture, but said nothing. She looked about as shaken up as he did, her face paler than he'd ever seen it.

And then there was his wand. He looked down at it, still clenched in one sweaty hand. It had shot red sparks at the dark lord. Made him leave. But how? He'd tried to duplicate it, tried as hard as he could, waving it about, focusing on the sparks, but nothing had happened. It was as inanimate as, well, a stick of wood. But you still couldn't explain away the sparks, was the thing.

The light outside had begun to fade, and the teapot was growing darker. With the dark lord gone, the shadows had lightened. The Madcaps were still out there, though, and as long as they were out  _there_ , Harry and Alice were stuck in  _here_. Not even Alice dared fight her way through twenty or more Madcaps, particularly with Harry still at her side.

Not to mention what the dark lord had said in passing. If he died in Wonderland, he really died? Alice had looked more than troubled at that bit of news, she had looked outright scared. Mumbled something about never dying in Wonderland, but Harry wasn't so sure. It wasn't  _his_ Wonderland, now was it? It was hers. He'd just somehow ended up along for the ride and it wouldn't surprise him a bit to learn that he could really die. The thought scared him, but not as much as it clearly scared Alice.

Although maybe her own fright had to do with that parting comment about Wonderland shattering. Harry had thought it himself--it looked tattered around the edges somehow, not to mention that Ruin thing Alice had killed--but to hear it stated so baldly was unnerving.

He'd opened his mouth to speak more than a dozen times, wanting to question Alice about it, but then stopped himself. Maybe she didn't even know. Maybe she did and it was too awful to talk about it yet. Whatever it was, bringing it up seemed cruel.

Then again, maybe he should anyway since it seemed like they would end up dying here. Unless the Madcaps left. He'd peeped outside through the big crack, taking care to stay in the shadows, and noticed this seemed to be their...home, so to speak. Particularly the enormous teakettle across the way. It was painted a particularly bilious shade of green and had sloppily drawn pictures of Madcaps across the front. It, too, was cracked, but this crack was large enough for Harry to tell that there were makeshift beds along the slightly curved bottom, made of scraps of antique doilies and old-fashioned buttons. The Madcaps appeared to sleep in shifts--a group going to sleep for a few hours, while the rest roamed around the rest of the tea party land. That's what Harry had privately dubbed it. It seemed appropriate.

Once or twice, Harry had tried to venture into the section of teapot where the dark lord had been, but he couldn't make himself stay. The splotches of blood across the wall were still too fresh, for one thing. When the dark lord had vanished, propelled by the red sparks or whatever had happened, the bloodstains had still been dripping a bit. He couldn't see a body anywhere but then again, the darkness was so thick, he could be a foot away from a veritable cemetery and not notice. The idea was disquieting.

Finally, night fell, and the Madcaps had all assembled in their makeshift dormitory. They sprawled out, both inside and out, snores echoing across the shattered remnants of crockery. Harry peered anxiously at Alice, now only a pale blob against the side of the teapot. Should they try to leave now? Harry wanted to leave. It was starting to get cold, and even though his clothing had changed into something better-fitting and not so tattered, he still felt the chill seep against his skin.

Just as he took a hesitant step toward Alice, however, the silence of the night was shattered. Something very big and very loud was approaching the tea party land, and for a moment, Harry froze, nearly dropping his wand into the crumbled pottery at his feet. Alice shot up next to him, grabbing hold of his arm and pulling out the vorpal blade.

"What is it, Alice?" he whispered. The Madcaps had all woken up and were running about like mad, jabbing makeshift weaponry into the air and hissing at themselves in their own language.

At first, Alice said nothing, then a low laugh of relief escaped her throat.

"The Hatter," she said and pointed to the tallest man Harry had ever seen, balancing an enormous checkered hat on his head, bristling with gears. "We're saved. For now."


End file.
